


Various Accounts of the Afterlife

by Nightcrawler247



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dark, Dead People, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, ghost - Freeform, not as dark as it seems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-29 00:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightcrawler247/pseuds/Nightcrawler247
Summary: *LIMITED TIME STORY!*This is actually something I plan to officially publish but I need feedback as I write the rough draft.So I'd appreciate if anyone would read it and tell me what they think. More on the actual story and writing then grammar. The grammar will be fixed later in editing. This story will be deleted once it's done.Ghost (Noun)an apparition of a dead person which is believed to appear or become manifest to the living, typically as a nebulous image.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I also need help with coming up with chapter titles so if the title is blank of has a * next to it it means I need some help thinking of one.

It began with the strange feeling of descent. Not much different from the sensation of a downward moving elevator. Something most people can relate to. Only this was slower and less pronounced. I almost didn’t notice it. I practically slept through it. Only knowing for sure it actually happen when it finally stopped, not too long after starting.

Next, I heard the soft but unignorable thumping sound above me. For a brief second, I thought it was the familiar sound of the pitter patter of rain against my bedroom window. The same noise I have woken to a hundred times before.

That very fact being the only reason that I knew almost the very next second that this time, it wasn’t the rain against my window. The noise was too thick, too heavy and left a strange echo in it’s wake all around me. An echo that didn’t go far with how confined the space was.

My first instinct was to reach for that noise that continued above me. Absently I did so and quickly came in contact with a soft fabric with wood behind it. A strange and unexpected sensation. I didn’t understand what it was at first. Only that it was above me and didn’t reach my body, so it wasn’t a blanket of any kind.

That initial touch sent unease through me. It was yet another unknown and unexpected interruption to my usual morning routine. As my fingers grazed over the fabric above me, moving down to see how far it goes over my body, the strange sound from before continued on. With it were other unidentified noises. Now that I was awake I tried to concentrate on them. I relaxed my whole body and still didn’t open my eyes as to focus on the sounds above.

I laid there for a couple seconds trying to hear past the thumping noise that was making it harder and harder to hear anything else. With each thump the other noises became more and more muffled. Eventually I did recognize what they were. They were sobs. People were crying.

Why were they crying? Why were they above me?

These thoughts went through my mind as I continued to listen until the thumping noise completely drowned out the sobs before eventually drowning even it’s self out. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t hear anything even more.

Suddenly I felt very alone. With that feeling came a rush of panic. I don’t know why but something in me knew that was bad. My mind was still to fuzzy to understand why though. In my panic I begin to feel around myself more.

No longer just focusing on what’s above me but also what’s around me. I tried to stretch my hands out and feel along the sides of myself but the distance was so short that I couldn’t even left my arms up in position to stretch. They came in contact with that same fabric as before. Just this time it was padded with something underneath it other than wood.

Something soft and clearly intended to be comfortable. I took note of that same sensation on my back. All of these observations alarmed me more and more. I still didn’t open my eyes yet. Afraid of what I might see. Afraid of how I might react. Something told me that if I opened my eyes now everything would get a whole lot worse.

So, I didn’t, not yet. I continued to feel around myself in a slight rush, borderline panic. Since, I could stretch my arms out on my side I tried reaching downwards. Wanting to see how far this box goes. I felt a spike of uncomfortable adrenal when I realized I didn’t even have the room to maneuver myself so that I could feel the entire box. I could not even turn on my side with all the padding in the way.

With that realization my breathing began to pick up. My chest moved up and down at an increasing speed. I started thrashing to the best of my ability in the box. A soft whimper came out of my mouth.

I can’t breath! I can’t breath! I can’t breath!

I chanted in my head as I desperately moved around. Pushing at my surroundings and receive no give from them. Not even a slight creak.

In the small calm part of my now frantic mind I contemplated if I was claustrophobic? That’s something I would know about myself right?

Eventually I had no choice but to stop thrashing. Recognizing that my thrashing and panicking was only making my mental state worse. I stop moving and just focused on my rapid breathing. Counting my breaths are best I can.

Breath in

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Hold

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Out

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Hold

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Repeat

I went over the breath exercises again and again. Not minding the time. As I knew paying attention to it would set me off again. I just focused on my breathing. Ignored the fact that I couldn’t move much more then an inch all around me. Finally, after a while, I was back under control.

Familiar

That was the first word that came to mind when I was clear headed again. All of this felt painfully familiar, alarmingly familiar, concerningly familiar. This was more than déjà vu. This was a sensation of _knowing_. I know I’ve done this before. I know of done this more times than I can count. More times then likely anyone could keep up with.

That thought should have been comforting. Knowing that I’ve done this before and likely gotten out of this same situation time and time again. It wasn’t comforting, instead it came with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Something about what was happing right now left an empty spot of hopelessness inside of me. I just knew that this wouldn’t end well. That it never ended well and that I should expect no difference this time.

Even thought I had these thoughts and a sense of understanding it didn’t stop me from going through the motions I knew that were bound to happen. Things that I would all surly get a rise out of me. Events that would eat at me like they did every single time I did this, until there was nothing left. Next, I did something that I knew from the very moment of consciousness was a horrible idea.

I opened my eyes.

I was met with nothing but pure darkness. Not just any old darkness, that one is used to waking to in the middle of the night. No, this was an empty deprecated void that came with the promise of being the only thing that I would ever see again. It was lacking of anything. No pleasure, no happiness, no companionship, not even the relieving sensation of pain.

Nothing to confirm that I was still here. That I still existed. That I still mattered. Why would they condemn me to such a fate? Was I such an awful person to them? Did they hate me so much?

I couldn’t answer any of these questions for myself. I didn’t even know who ‘they’ was. The questions came to my mind like a recurring dream. One that I no longer understood but still had every single night. This endless darkness must have swallowed the answers long ago. I would never get them back now.

That thought pushed a rush of rage through me. I felt a desire to have those memories back. I felt I was owed them if I must endure this. I reached above me, a snarl on my face, and tore at the fabric I came in contact with. Unable to attack to darkness itself I lashed out at what I could feel. Scratching and clawing at the wood above me. Pushing at any other fabric I felt and letting the strips of it fall around me.

I let out screams of frustration and desperation as I continued to scrape at the wood. I did so for as long as the anger boiled in me. Wood shaving were all around me soon. However, my nails still gave way before the boards of wood did. I only became aware of it when I felt the drip of something wet and warm on my face.

The shock of the new feeling being enough to drag me from my rage. As the anger left my body I became aware of it again. I felt the dull aching throb from my now bloody fingers. The sweat and heat my body was generating the action. The aggressive rise and fall of my chest as I caught my breath. The sudden fatigue as the anger that once powered me through the pain now just left me exhausted.

I raised my fingers to my face as if I could see them. I couldn’t in this endless void and that sent a spark of anger in me that was just strong enough to push down any regret I might have had at hurting myself.

Despite my continued displeasure at my situation I knew that escape was hopeless. A part in my understood that it had always been hopeless. That I’ve done this so many time before it was stupid to continue any further. I should lay down and rest.

I did not want to rest though, because I knew with rest came a fading into unconsciousness and with that came a rest start of all of this. The moment I would finally close my eyes I would open them seconds later and this would all began again. I didn’t want that. At least right now in these finally seconds of wake I was as clear as I’d ever be.

I was aware of what was happening and I was afraid anymore. Sure I didn’t like my situation and it pissed me off beyond belief at least I had that. At least I had my anger rather than my fear. At least anger is productive. I rather have it an entertain the idea of escape then fall back into hopelessness. Hope was all I has after all.

Even though I wanted to cling to this. To my anger in hopes it would keep me awake I felt unconsciousness pull at me. Cry out to me and demand I rest. I began to feel more tired than I ever thought imaginable. The feeling was impossible to resist. My hands fell to my chest and my head lulled to the side. My eye lids felt heavier and heavier with every passing second. As I drifted into a state of unconsciousness, subjecting myself to a repeat of all of this, a last recurring thought came to me.

_If I’d known being buried would be this bad, I would have asked to be cremated instead._


	2. Chapter 2

“Let us out! Let us out! Please! I don’t want to die like this!”

JingFei was at it again. She did this every day. Well at least I think it’s day. It’s hard to tell time when you can’t see the sun. All I had to use as reference was the constant routine of the women around me. One being JingFei and her insistent clawing at the stone walls surrounding us.

“Please!” she shrieked.

Her terrified shrill of a voice only a vice to my ears. I’d long grown tired of her endless cries. A part of me wanted to just silence her myself, but I knew it would be for not. She would only begin again in the morning.

JingFei let out another shriek as she banged against the door to our eternal prison. I let out a frustrated sigh and lifted myself to the best of my ability off the ground. I rolled to my stomach and lifted on my hands and knees, crawling away from her.

My bound feet making it impossible for me to move away dignified. Not that it mattered. I’d given up on dignity years ago. I crawled pass the skeletal remains of all the women who’d been trapped down here with us all that time ago. I greeted each one as I passed them.

“Hello SuYin. Good morning RuoLan. Your looking well XiuRong.” On and on I went.

Not because they could here me but because I needed to. I need this routine. It’s one of the only things that kept me sane. I feared the day that I would sink into insanity like the others. So, I clung to whatever consistency I could. Relying on it to get me by. I was not even completely sure I still had their names right at this point. They no longer had faces for me to discern from.

I could not tell YanMei from ZhenZhen. This also did not bother me. For I was glad not to see their faces. It meant they weren’t stuck in this horrible place with the rest of us. I may not have been friends with the other women of the palace, but I would not wish this fate upon anyone. Except… maybe the cruel man who’d damned us to it.

I continued to say my greetings as I passed the women. I finally stopped when I came across XiaoLian. She was lying across the ground clutching to her stomach. Her eyes were closed, and her face was twisted in pain. I knew from that expression that it was mid-day. If she was this far along in her ‘reliving’ the sun must be high in the sky.

You see, every day XiaoLian relives her death in fast motion. She rose in the morning starting off fine and sometimes even talkative. That was a nice time. I enjoy any form of conversation these days. Sadly, it would not last long. Only ever about an hour. Then she would begin to get weaker and weaker. Clutching to her stomach more and more as the pain of starvation overtook her.

After a while she wouldn’t even be able to talk, let alone move. She’d just lay on her side and cry dry tears silently waiting for it to be over. In the beginning I would sit with her through the worst of the pain. Hoping that my presences would relieve some of it. However, all I did was serve as a reminder that she alone had to endure this torment. I believe she began to resent me for this. So, instead of disturbing her during this time I simply grieved for her from a distance. Hoping that some God would take pity on her and relieve her of the pain. If only temporarily.

I looked on at her one last time contemplating calling out to her. Maybe giving her my greeting, but I knew it would only serve to infuriate her, so I went on with my crawling.

Next, I came upon Huian. She was my favorite. We did not talk, she and I. She never spoke a word. Not since the day we were placed in here. She did offer silent company though. She never screamed endlessly like JingFei did and she never gave off pitiful groans of pain like XiaoLian. She offered me one of the only pieces of mind I had in this place. The blissed silence I was unable to find with anyone else.

Part of me felt horrible for enjoying her silence. As I can tell it was a result of her broken mind. Her dull lifeless eyes confirmed this. However, her broken mind offered mine solaces in this desolate state. The sweet relief of silence was necessary for my sanity.

When I came upon her, I fell onto my stomach next to her. She as well was laying on the ground on her side. Staring vacantly in front of her. Her eyes unseeing to anything around her. I laid directly in front of her face gazing into those blank brown eyes. I evened my nonexistent breath with hers. Imitating what we once needed in life. It was a simple pass time.

In and out

In and out

In and out

The repetition was calming. I don’t know how long I lay there but once I began to hear XiaoLian groans reach me again I took it as time to move on.

“Thank you again, Huian.” I called.

I felt that I should thank her. Even if she may not be aware of it, she has been an important part of my routine for years now. I may not be able to go own with any disruption to it. Meaning I may not be able to go on with any disruption to her. I thanked her for her consistency.

I rose to my knees again and began to crawl.

I continued until I came upon MeiHui. She sat as primly as ever up against the wall. She looked the best among us. Her makeup was not marred with tears like JingFei’s. Her cheeks were not sunk in like XiaoLian’s. Her clothing had not even a single speck of dirt unlike my now filthy kimono. Her face reflected more clarity then Huian’s.

She looked to be doing well in this eternal torment. As if she had gotten the better end of stick in comparison with the rest of us. However, I knew better. She was one of the most pitiful among us.

“Oh, Shuang. How are you today.” She asked. Same as she always did.

“Fine and you?” I returned.

“The same.”

“Might I ask what you are doing?” I asked already anticipating her answer. It was always the same.

“Sharing a few words with his Imperial Highness.” She said.

I resisted sighing. She was one of the fool hearted woman who had fallen in love with the Emperor. Despite that he likely did not even know her name. Believe it or not but she was glad to have been put down here, unlike the rest of us. She’d dreaded the thought of living without him and was happy to rest alongside him. She believed that it was only a matter of time that he came for us. To take us to the afterlife along with him where we would continue our duties as his consorts.

How pitiful.

“What might you two be talking about?” I asked.

She was always happy to speak of him with anyone who would listen. I was the only one here to offer her conversation outside her delusions.

“I was sharing some poetry I’d written. Would you like to hear?” She responded, already readjusting, preparing to recite it.

Rather I gave my permission or not. I did not mind. She was a gifted words smith. Her stories and poetry were the only inconsistency I welcomed in my routine. They were something to look forward to in this endless cycle.

“I would be delighted.” I answered.

Dragging myself over to her and laying at her feet. Her gaze was disapproving at my lack of manners. I could not bring myself to care though. I’d given up on such trivial things decades ago. What was the point in dignity when there was no one sane to see it? This did not deter her from her reciting though. She had no one else to choose from afterall.

I listened to her for what must have been hours. My visits with her always seemed the longest. She was the only one who offered proper conversation after all. Even if she was mad. At some point in her story telling I listened intently to the sound of the rest of the tomb.

JingFei’s shrieks had gone silent and XiaoLian’s groans of pain could no longer be heard. I knew that meant it was nighttime. It was the only time they were silent. JingFei having fall in despair on the ground. Finally giving up on being heard and released. XiaoLian having sub come to her possibly thousandth death. I turned to MeiHui.

“I do believe it’s night now. I must be going.” I said.

MeiHui did not question how I knew the time and only nodded in understanding. I have yet to discern if she knew of the others or not. I was sure she must know we were all some form of spirit by now, but I didn’t know how she perceived time or the people around her. Or even fully how she perceived the Emperor.

I sat up and got to my knees giving the best bow I possible could like that. She returned the favor. Unable to stand to her feet as they were bound as well. Once I said my goodbyes to her I made the journey back to the front of the tomb. I made sure to wish a goodnight to both XiaoLian and Huian.

I stopped once I came upon JingFei. She was weeping lowly on the ground. Her back pressed against the tomb door. I sighed at the sight of her. JingFei’s was a terrible curse to bare. Even if it annoyed me sometimes, I did pity her too. I shuffled over to her and laid down in front of her, pulling her close into my chest where she would cry and cling to me for the duration of the night.

As she did, I reflected on my own curse in this terrible tomb. The curse of sanity. The constant and dreadful piece of mind I had. My ability to comprehend what was truly happening to us all.

As well as my inability to do anything about it.


	3. Chapter 3

I gazed down at the wooden hand-crafted music box I held. I inspected its beautifully simple design as I ran my fingers over it gently. Noting that even though the surface appeared smooth and finely done at first glance, once you took a closer look it was littered with imperfections. Small sharp edges sticking out from where the pieces were being held together, un-sanded wood that if rubbed too hard would surely give you splinters, and five wonderfully unique ballerinas that each had their own dents and cracks in them. Either from overuse or the poor crafter who designed them.

Still, even with all its imperfection I wouldn’t change a single piece, because I know that every scratch, every divot, and every mistake was made with the utmost love. That the greatest care went into its making. That the crafter sacrificed hours in seclusion and received more cuts then could ever be explained away. Just for the sake of its creation. For the sake of my smile.

I wanted them to know just how much I appreciated that in my time of need. How much comfort it gave me to just know that they cared enough to do something like this for me. How much I regret that I never had the chance to return the favor.

The only way I could think to show them how I felt was to play it. To turn the starter over and over again until finally it could no longer be played. So, like every night I lifted the small music box close to myself and reached underneath it for the small metal nob. Then I gently held it between two fingers and as softly as I could, as to not break it, I twisted it until it would go no further.

The unwaxed wooden gears resisted to the turn at first but with a gentle nudge of my finger the worn-down ballerinas began to turn and dance to the best of their ability. Stopping every now and again as the gears got stuck before they were prompted by my finger once more. The lovely tune of swan lake played loudly from the music box. Once it began, I cradled it closely to my chest, taking my leave of the small room it had been left in.

I continued to hold it close to my heart as I walked leisurely through the dark halls of my childhood home. Humming along, as the song from the music box echoed through the narrow hallway. Whenever the music would stop, I would wind the box up so that I could hear it play over again. I went on like this until the sun started to peak over the horizon. Undergoing my usual nightly routine of wondering through these dark dusty mournful halls hoping to bring some light back to them with the song.

Like every night, around the third time the song began to play I could hear shuffling from the closed doors of my family’s bedrooms. I knew they were awake. They were always awake by this point. I also knew they’d never come out. They only ever did so once, the very first night I started my routine.

They never did again.

I wish they would. I always loved to see their faces. Even when they were overtaken with fear. Sometimes I would call out their names. Hoping that one of them might come speak to me. It almost worked a few times. I could tell from the way the door nob would jiggle ever so slightly when their shaking hands clenched around it.

They would never turn it though. Not all the way. Not enough so that I might push it open. I don’t understand why they fear me. They know me. They raised me or were raised with me. They should know I would never hurt them. I never have hurt them. Well except… maybe with my passing.

I know that must have been hard for them, but it was hard for me too! It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park to go through that or to even just get back home. The least they could do was _see_ me. The least they could do was _talk_ to me. I don’t ask for much. I don’t show myself during the day when they’re busy. I always wait patiently until nothing else is going on. Before, at least they may have been out their rooms, but now they’re closed up in them by five pm every night.

I don’t even get a glimpse of them before their off to bed. I don’t know why they’ve started going to sleep so early. They’ve never done so before. We’re a family of night owls. I’ve contemplated it for many weeks now. At first, I thought I may have been playing my music too loud for them to sleep at night, so they try to get as many hours as possible before I start. I know that can’t be it though, because I’m always sure to play it just low enough that it could be ignored if needed so they can sleep.

Besides, it never kept them up before. During the times when I was in the most pain and one of them would have to play it for me continuously for hours to distract from the constant ache. Humming along with the tune as they let me clutch tightly to their free hand. The rest of the family would sleep just fine during those times and that was with the music box at it’s loudest. It just didn’t make sense that suddenly the box was too loud for them to sleep.

However, that’s the only reasonable theory I’ve been able to come up with. The only other thing I could think of was preposterous. That being, they just don’t want to see me. I know that can’t be right. I saw how they were when they had to say goodbye to me. How they wept as they threw their roses down to me. The way my young, confused brother begged for them to stop throwing dirt on me. Saying how I had promised to play with him later and that I couldn’t if I was buried in the ground.

When I saw how broken they were I knew I had to come back. I knew I had to stay for them. I knew they weren’t ready to let me go. I wasn’t ready to let them go. So, I know that theory can’t be right. I know they want to see me just as much as I want to see them.

“A-Amelia?”

A small, muffled voice came from my siblings’ room, previously just my younger sisters’ room until I came back. The sound surprised me so much I stopped humming and froze in my endless pacing. That was clearly my younger brother’s voice.

“Shh!”

My sister harshly hushed him for speaking up. I could just imagine her holding her hand over his mouth now to ensure his silence. She had been the one most afraid of my return, followed by my Mother and then my Father. My sweet little brother Andrew was the only one who never so much as flinched at the sight of me. Instead, welcoming me with open arms every time I saw him.

I was never able to enjoy the embrace of those open arms though. As it was never long before someone else would show up and pull him away from me. Expressing that foul fear, they carried with them everywhere they went.

“Andy.”

A whisper of his name fell out my lips instinctively.

“It’s Amelia! See I told yo-!”

His voice was cut off once again. Most likely by our sister. It was frustrating to know she was getting in the way of our rekindling. I wasn’t surprised though. She was always the jealous sort. Hated when we would play without her. I understood that, which is why I always made a point to include her. Right now would be no different, so why is she getting in the way? It was just childish at this point. She really needed to grow up!

I stomped angrily to their bedroom door and knocked as hard as I could against the wood three times. Shouting Andy’s and Veronica’s name and for them to let me in. A lot like I would when Veronica would lock me out my own room when we were younger. Before Andy was even old enough walk. I know my parents hated when I did this. Especially so late at night. It was disruptive and kind of childish, but I was too angry to care what they would think.

Much like when we were younger Veronica completely ignored my banging. It was infuriating to know that she could hear me but was just choosing not to acknowledge I was here. After a while my anger morphed into desperation and I started using both my fist. Hitting the door so hard it shook against it’s hinges. I noticed that my screams of their names seemed to change in octave and echo louder and louder through the hall.

I know I was being overdramatic, but I was just so frustrated! I just wanted to see them! To hug them! To tell them how much I missed them! Why couldn’t they give me that!?

“Amelia! Stop!”

I heard the loud and frightened shout of my mother. Her voice snapped me out of my rampage and sent a small shiver of fear down my back. The fear every child that’s been in trouble knows about. I hated when my parents were mad at me. I was the good child after all. I stopped banging against the door and screaming, immediately.

When I did, for the first time in a long time the halls were completely silent. There was no music, no footsteps, no humming, absolutely nothing except for the smalls sounds of my siblings sobbing quietly in their room. Guilt washed over me like a flood. I had not meant to scare them. Especially little Andy, who was the only one that wasn’t already scared to begin with.

I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell them how sorry I was for scaring them. I wanted to ask for their forgiveness and have Mother force us to hug like she did every time we fought with each other. I just wanted things to go back to normal. Sadly, before I could even try the sun started to peak through the open window in the hall. My time was out.

I whispered an apology as I faded into the closest thing I had to sleep.

When I woke next, I was astonished to see it wasn’t in the darkness of my bedroom but instead in front of my tomb stone in the brightness of day. I glanced around myself frantically at the unfamiliar surroundings. I haven’t been here since the day they buried me.

I didn’t understand why I was suddenly in this place until I turned around and saw my family. All of them dressed in the formal black attire they wore at my funeral. My mother was carrying a bouquet of white roses. The same flowers she carried the last time we’d all been here. I took this time to examine them all. I had not gotten a proper look at them in weeks.

I was sad to see that they all looked a little worse for wear. They were skinny as if they hadn’t eaten a good meal in a while. Their eyes were heavy with bags under them and clearly reflected their fatigue. Their physical appearance was not the only thing wrong. They were tense and anxious, glancing around themselves constantly as if seeking out some unknown threat. They moved quickly to my grave site seemingly wanting to hurry with whatever they were about to do.

Once they arrived to it they all worked quickly to clean up around the head stone. Andy and Veronica brushed away stray autumn leaves, my Father pulled out a rag to wipe away any dirt or mud clinging to the head stone, while my Mother emptied the vase near my headstone of dead flowers and filthy water. Replacing it with the white roses’ she brought and fresh water for them. The moved fast and silently. Their bodies tense and on edge; looking up every now and again to glance around their surroundings.

I wonder if they could feel me watching them. Maybe that’s why they were so on edge. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to be watched by someone you couldn’t see. I felt a small wave of guilt knowing that I was the reason for their unease. I’d show myself to them to calm their nerves if I could, but there was just something about this place that made it so much more difficult then when I was at home.

Unable to do anything I sat on the ground and crossed my legs to get comfortable. Just taking in my family and enjoying seeing them for the first time in what felt like forever. Even though they were not smiling, laughing, and playing like I would have preferred to see them doing I was extremely grateful to see them at all. I sent out a silent prayer for this moment to last as long as possible.

That prayer clearly went unanswered for it was not even three minutes before my family had finished cleaning my grave site and were backing away from it to look over their work. I imagined that once they found it satisfactory, they would leave. Part of me wanted to destroy their hard work and dirty it once again if only so they had to stay longer to fix it back up. However, that would be cruel, and I was raised better than that.

I was pleasantly surprised when they didn’t leave right after finishing. They all stood stiffly in front of my grave gazing down at it with apprehension. Occasionally, my Mother and Father would glance at one another as if waiting for the other to do something. Eventually it was my Father who stepped up and kneeled down next to the head stone with a heavy sigh. He hesitantly put a hand on the headstone and put on a strained smile.

“Hello, Amelia. It’s your Father.” He started, immediately grabbing my attention even more then he already had.

My eyes were wide at the unexpected development. I walked over closer to him. Sitting next to the headstone and leaning my head against it while I started at him waiting for him to speak more. I was completely enraptured by what he may say next. Seeing as this is the first real time any of them has tried to have a proper conversation with me.

“I.. I need you to really listen to me baby girl.” He said his smile now turning into a grimace. I sat up in attention like I would before when he could see me.

“We need you to move on sweetheart.” He said.

I was confused now. What did he mean? I looked over to the rest of my family to see them all even more uncomfortable and tense now. Looking around at every small noise and gust of wind.

“We need you… to leave the house. To go on where your supposed to be.” He continued. He couldn’t be saying what I think he’s saying. I felt my confused expression twist into one of disbelief. There was no way that he actually wanted me to leave them. When they had all been so sad when I left the first time.

“It’s okay, Honey! You don’t need to stay here anymore. You don’t need to be in pain. It’s time to let go.” My Mother said. She was doing a much better job of keeping a smile on her face then my Father but I can still see the fear in her eyes.

“R-right, I can look after Andy and myself big sister. You don’t have to worry about us either! Right, Andy?” Veronica said pushing a little on Andy’s shoulders, so he’d speak.

“Yes, we’ll be okay. You can go home now.” Andy said his smile being the only real one.

“You see? We’ll all fine. We’ll all be fine. So, will you. You just need to move on now Amelia.” My Father said rubbing the top of the headstone like he would my head in the past.

“Do you really want that?” I said out loud not expecting them to actual hear me but from the way they’re eyes widened in shock and their heads turned every which way in search of me I think they actually did. They were still looking around, now with relief in their eyes, as they continued talking.

“Yes! That’s what we want. That’s what we all want!”

“You can go!”

“Don’t let us stop you from moving on!”

They were screaming now at any and everywhere as if I couldn’t hear them without them raising their voices. If only they knew I was so close.

“I-I’m too scared.” I said honestly. Finally admitting to them why I really stayed.

Sure, I truly didn’t want them to have to mourn me, but I stayed just as much for myself as them. I wasn’t ready for what was next. I wasn’t ready to let go and say goodbye to them. To go into that great unknown. What if it wasn’t all that was promised? What if it _was_ all that was promised? Each thought was equally as terrifying to me.

“That’s okay baby girl! It’s okay to be afraid!” My Father was speaking now in that same loud voice.

“We’ve all had things were afraid of! But we get through them right!? We always get through them, together.” He said smiling down at my headstone now.

“Like the time when you were first diagnosed.” He said.

“Or when Andy and I would hear you cry at night.” Veronica continued.

“Or when you we’re in your final moments and none of us left your side?” My Mother finished.

“We we’re all there to hold your hand.” Andy finished his small hand held out.

I reached for it ever so slowly. Not knowing if I would even be able to make contact. I haven’t had the chance to try before. I feared my hand slipping through his own, but I pushed through the fear and gently touched my finger tips against his palm.

When they didn’t fade through and Andy’s face lite up with recognition I fully took it within my own. He was smiling up at me now. Somehow looking directly at me. I looked up at the rest of my family and saw they as well were looking right at me now. My eye’s widened ever so slightly.

“Can you see me?” I asked softly.

My Mother’s lips were trembling, and tears were leaking from her eyes when she raised her hand to cover her mouth to contain a sob as she shook her head in yes. Veronica and My Father were in no better condition. My Mother was the first to move taking my hand in her like she did so many weeks ago when I breathed my last.

My Father took her other hand and my sister took his and Andy’s. There we stood, all of us in a circle hand and hand. A perfect replication of the night I died. The overwhelming familiar sensation was too much for me and I began to sob. I sob harder then I had in years. Harder then my disease had ever allowed me to in my last moments. This time I did not pretend to be strong for my family. I did not reassure the doctor it wasn’t his fault. I did not hold in my feelings so that little Andy would not be sacred. I let it all out. I let myself feel everything I was denied that night. Everything I was denied throughout my whole miserable last months.

It was not fair that I didn’t get to mourn myself until now! That I didn’t get to express how angry I was at having my life taken from me! That I didn’t get to cry and scream and show how terrified I was every single day of what would come next! It just wasn’t fair that I had to be the one to go through this! I never hurt anyone in life! I was always the good girl! I always followed the rules! I never cursed anyone of wished bad on someone just because I didn’t like them! I strove to be perfect and this is what I get?! What kind of injustice is that?!

“I know it’s not fair.” My Mother said. I looked up at her in surprised. I hadn’t known I was saying those things aloud.

“It’s not fair that I lost my oldest daughter. That despite all we gave and everyone who tried to help us that we just couldn’t save you.” My Mother said with tears in her eyes but she was still trying o smile through them like the rest of my family.

“It’s not fair that I never got to walk you down the aisle. That I never got to intimidate your first boyfriend. That I never go to see you become a young woman.” My Father said his hand squeezing my own a little tighter.

“It’s not fair that I don’t get to grow up with my older sister! Or steal your clothes anymore! Or fight with you when I’ve had a rough day! Or ask you for advice!” Veronica said her voice rough and filled with more sadness and anger then I’ve ever heard before.

“It not fair that we can’t play together anymore.” Andy chipped in too.

“…But death is never fair.” My Mother said her smile finally gone.

“There is never a happy end to someone’s life. There will always be pain and fear and regrets. We can not over come that anymore then anyone else.” She said. I could tell she’d thought of this many times over the last couple of weeks.

“Which is why you can’t let that be the reason that you stay here. That you don’t move on to what’s next. We we’re not meant to stay in this world forever, Love. There is a time when everything must end. Yours just so happen to be a lot sooner then most.” My Mother said breaking the circle and coming to cup my still crying face in her hands. She placed a soft kiss on my forehead and pulled me tightly into her arms.

“It’s time to let got now.” She whispered into my ears.

I clung to her with all my might. Weeping even more into her shoulder. My fingernails digging into her back, sure to leave behind marks. I pushed through my tears and spoke the best I could through my sobs.

“Okay.”

Just like that everything started to fade.


End file.
